


Settling Down, Settling In

by thedropoutandthejunkie (elenajames)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Domestic, Fluff and Angst, Illnesses, M/M, Post-Trials Sam, Recovery, Sam and Dogs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-24
Updated: 2016-12-24
Packaged: 2018-09-11 19:46:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9008569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elenajames/pseuds/thedropoutandthejunkie
Summary: Sam's trying to get better. Dean just wants him to be happy.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Written for BSGC's Secret Santa for ourweakspots.

Sam shivers, sweat cooling in the chilly morning air as he limps the last few steps back to the bunker. He shouldn’t be running, not really, not until he gets his weight back up and his appetite under control, but sometimes it’s the only thing that soothes the jitters in his hands and in his brain. Dean looks a little disapproving as Sam settles at the kitchen table, shivers still racing up his spine. The coffee is hot, though, and the brown-sugar oatmeal Dean sets in front of him is warm, both going a long way to warm him up. 

 

Dean’s mothering would be annoying if Sam weren’t so tired all the time. It’s nice to lean into Dean, to lean on him and let Sam feel his brother’s love ease some of the ache in his bones. The older brother quietly needles Sam about eating, plying him with easy, hot foods in an attempt to help Sam gain back some of the weight and strength the Trials had robbed from him; there’s hot water bottles in their bed to try to keep Sam warm and help his body fight off the continual colds that plague him now. More than once, Sam’s woken to Dean just watching him sleep, a painful mix of love and worry etched into his brother’s face. 

 

“You want some more?” Dean asks, eyeing Sam’s nearly empty bowl. Sam can’t help but smile; he’s full, but Dean always makes way more oatmeal than either of them can hope to eat because he refuses to measure the water and oats. 

 

“No, I’m good. Thanks.” Sam smiles when Dean scoops up his bowl, dipping down for a gentle kiss. It’s been a long time - since the Apocalypse, really - that their relationship has resembled anything close to tender, and the softness of Dean’s mouth against Sam’s warms him from the inside. 

 

“Gonna get the car ready. We need supplies. You want to shower first?” 

 

“Yeah. Meet you in the garage.” 

 

Quiet drives into town are always nice - as quiet as car rides ever are with Dean. Sam watches the familiar countryside rolling by as the Impala roars down the highway, her engine only slightly overshadowed by one of Dean’s favorite tapes. 

 

They split the grocery list. It saves time and bickering as they each have things they’re picky about, and they’ve been in the bunker long enough to have a rhythm down so that they meet at checkout. Dean’s got some things he wants from the hardware store, so Sam wanders down the sidewalk of the main drag. There isn’t much to be had in a small town like this, just the bare essentials so the locals down have to drive to one of the further cities. 

 

It’s outside the post office that Sam first sees her. She’s skinny, that much is obvious. Hunkered down on the icy sidewalk, the pup watches people go by. There’s no collar around her neck and Sam only manages to hold himself in check for a moment before giving in. 

 

“Hey sweetheart,” he says softly, crouching down a little ways away from the dog and holding his hand out toward her. She doesn’t react much beyond looking at him, and Sam risks shuffling closer until he can run his hand over her head. A shudder runs under his fingers and the pup whines a little at him. “It’s okay.” 

 

The dog starts to nudge up into his hand as he pets her, albeit a little tiredly. Sam can feel the bumps that indicate fleas, or maybe even ticks are hiding under her fur, but there’s no hint of mange that he can see. She’s a light brown, highlighted in black; some kind of shepherd, Sam thinks. Her ears are big and soft, and Sam knows that he’s in trouble already. 

 

“Sammy.” Dean’s voice is quiet, but Sam goes tense with guilt anyway. When he turns, Dean’s looking at him fondly, instead of with the sad look Sam’s gotten before when he wanted a dog and he can feel his breath catch. “You’re gonna have to put a blanket down in the back seat. She’s gonna be muddy.” 

 

“Really?” Sam knows he’s nearly whispering, not quite trusting his voice, but Dean just smiles and shrugs.

 

“Yeah. Really, Sam.” 

 

Loath as he is to take his eyes off the pup in case she tries to wander off, Sam stands for long enough to draw Dean into a kiss. 

 

“Think you can get her to follow you? Otherwise I can bring the car.” 

 

Letting out a low whistle, Sam pats a knee and the dog picks herself up gingerly. It’s slow going, but she trails behind them all the way to where the Impala is parked. A couple of worn army blankets get snagged from the trunk and spread over the backseat to protect the leather from definitely-muddied paws. Those same paws leave smears on the front of Sam’s jacket as he picks the pup up carefully and gets her in the car. She lays right back down, settling against the seat. 

 

They stop back at the hardware store to get supplies, Dean staying in the car while Sam runs in just so they can leave the car running. It feels surreal, staring at rows of dog collars and wondering what in the hell he’s thinking. Still, bags in hand and dog food slung over one shoulder, Sam can already feel a bubble of happiness welling up in his chest. 

 

“Hey,” Dean murmurs when they finally pull into the garage. He tugs Sam back in close, brushing their mouths together. “I...I want you to be happy here, Sam. I want you to have the things you want, that I couldn’t give you before.” 

 

Sam can see that Dean’s cheeks are pink, and a part of him aches for his brother. It’s an “I love you” and “please don’t leave me” and all of Dean’s own wants about the bunker and their life. 

 

“I am happy, Dean. I am.” 

 

And, later, as he’s scrubbing flea shampoo over the pup’s fur, shoulder bumping against Dean’s, Sam finds he believes it.

**Author's Note:**

> Extra special shout out to samshurley for allowing me to base Sam's pup on hers.


End file.
